


Start out Sweating, End up Sneezing

by poor_guys_headisspinning



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Illness, M/M, whiny jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 20:12:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10861251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poor_guys_headisspinning/pseuds/poor_guys_headisspinning
Summary: Jack made the mistake of going to school sick. (Actually, some might argue that his real mistake was taking honors physics.) Davey and Crutchie team up to mother Jack.





	Start out Sweating, End up Sneezing

Jack walks into first hour looking like death. His hair is a mess and the bags under his eyes are so prominent that they can be seen from across the room. Davey, who is across the room, clambers to his feet and hurries to Jack's side. "Jack! Are you okay? What happened?"

Jack inhales slightly, trying not to cough. "Aw hell, Dave. I'm fine, I swear. I just got a little cough, that's all." He clears his throat as if to reinforce the idea that he's in perfect health. Unfortunately, he sneezes right then.

"Jack, you're very clearly not okay. Why did you come to school?" Davey asks.

"I need the physics extra credit," he replies, trying to suppress any coughs that might escape. "You know that class is impossible, and I'm not missing out on 5 percent just because I'm sick."

"That's stupid! Who cares about a dumb extra credit thing? You're _sick_! Your health is much more important than a class," Davey says, clearly worried.

Jack glares at Davey, annoyed at his genius friend. He coughs once, or at least tries to stop after one, and says, "we're not all like you, Davey. Us mortals need all the help we can get to pass. If I miss a day of physics, I'll miss important stuff _and_ I'll lose the extra credit on top of that! There's no winning in this-" he cuts off, coughing violently. Davey looks at him and with pity, and waits for Jack's body to calm down. "Jack, I'm only trying to look out for you. I know school is stressful but you're really sick. You need to take a day off and sleep. Will you please let me call you out?"

"Over my dead body," is Jack's venomous response.

Davey sighs. "You're impossible." This observation is met by another glare, and another sneeze. "Fine, if I can't call the office, I'm texting Crutchie."

Jack's face goes pale. "You wouldn't."

"Too late, Jack. I'm already typing out a message," Davey almost sings. Jack lunges forward to grab the phone but is stopped by Davey's free hand forcefully hitting his chest. The sudden pressure makes Jack double over in a coughing fit. Davey takes this opportunity to quickly tap out a text to Crutchie asking him to talk some sense into his boyfriend.

Minutes later, Crutchie is in the classroom, ready to drag Jack home in handcuffs if he has to. Jack sees him walk in and immediately clings to Crutchie and starts begging to let him stay. "Crutch, please, I'm beggin' ya," Jack pleads. "I hafta stay at school! Davey doesn't get it cause he's a damn genius, but you know how bad I need that extra credit. _Please_."

Jack is near tears, and whether it's by choice or genuine, Crutchie takes pity. "Jack, I know you need to be there. But you're sick. You can't stop coughing and you look like you died in a dumpster and still came to school. I'll let you stay for physics on one condition: I take you home after and you'll let me take care of you _without complaining_. Do we have a deal?"

Jack groans. "You know I hate havin’ people fuss over me, Crutchie. I ain't a charity case!" He covers his face with his hands and stifles another cough.

"I know that, Jack. But you need someone to take care of you since you're doing such a bad job of it yourself," Crutchie replies gently. "And i thought I said no complaining. Do we have a deal?"

Jack begins to sigh, stopping only when he remembers that breathing to deeply will only end badly for him. "Fine, whatever. As long as I'm marked present for physics you can do whatever you want after."

Crutchie raises one eyebrow. "Whatever I want, you say? What a dangerous thing to grant me, Jack Kelly."

Jack blushes furiously. "You know what I damn mean, Crutchie."

"Oh I know," Crutchie smirks. "But teasing you is too much fun. So, I'll see you in two hours, okay?"

"Fine." Jack sulks back to his seat, glad he's at least being granted his extra credit.

Davey turns to Crutchie. "Thanks for knocking some sense into him. I was really worried, you know?"

"Yeah, I know Dave. Thanks for letting me know he's sick. He would've died if he stayed at school all day. He doesn't know how to take care of himself, so I'm glad he has you to do it when I'm not there." Crutchie smiles at Davey. The warning bell rings, notifying Crutchie that he has two minutes to get to his own class. He thanks Davey again, and hurries out the door.

Davey looks at Jack, who is sitting in his desk and coughing miserably. He sighs, pitying his stubborn friend. Only a couple of hours, then Jack would be home getting better.

***

The bell rings and Jack shoots up, beyond relieved that the worst two hours of his entire life are over. He barely learned anything, focusing on not coughing over paying attention to Mr. Faul lecture about electric fields. Crutchie texted him five minutes beforehand saying he would wait at the door by the band room for Jack. Jack stretches, holding his breath so as not to cough, and shrugs his backpack over his right shoulder. He walks over to Davey, who grabs his stuff and begins to walk next to Jack.

"You ready to go home, Jack?" He asks.

Jack sighs. "Go home _against my will_ , you mean? It doesn't matter if I'm ready or not, I'm getting dragged out of this hellhole one way or another. Do me a solid and get my homework for me, will ya?"

"You know, this whole process would be a lot smoother if you would just accept our help and admit that you want to go home," Davey chides gently.

"I know, I know," Jack grumbles. He's determined to at least pretend to be pissed about leaving, even if Davey is absolutely right and he can't wait to pass out as soon as he gets home.

They walk in comfortable silence for a while, until Davey has to turn to make it to history and Jack keeps going to get to the door. Davey smiles and waves at Jack, promising to take really good notes so he can copy them later. Jack theatrically rolls his eyes at the mention of _learning_ , but makes a mental note of this once-in-a-lifetime offer.

He keeps walking, and soon enough he's at the side doors and trying to plant a quick kiss on Crutchie's soft lips. Crutchie must have anticipated this, though, because he quickly steps away and says, "Nope! No _way_ am I letting your sick ass infect me too." Jack whines, clearly distraught at the idea of not being allowed to kiss his boyfriend.

"Crutchieeee," he moans. "It's bad enough I have to leave, but now you're trying to kill me too? Gimme a break!" He tries again, but to no avail; Crutchie is dead set on depriving Jack of what makes life worth living.

"Ya know, I'm pretty sure whining falls under the category of 'complaining'," Crutchie says.

"I was not _whining_ ," Jack sputters indignantly. "I don't _whine_!"

At this, Crutchie lets out a laugh. " _You_ don't- have you ever heard yourself talk?"

"Whatever," Jack mutters. "Let's just go." He opens the door and walks out, immediately flinching in the bright sunlight. "Jesus, it's bright out."

"What, are you a vampire now?" Crutchie teases.

"Would you be happy if I was? Is me being a vampire some secret kink of yours?" Jack looks at Crutchie suggestively. If he's not allowed to kiss him, he may as well torture Crutchie.

Crutchie's ears turn slightly pink. "No? Why would I have a vampire kink that's so weird," he replies, hiding any embarrassment in his voice.

"Oh, I don't know, Crutch," Jack drawls. "Maybe you're super into necks and the idea of me biting yours is really hot. Maybe you have a thing for me needing you to survive. Maybe you just want me to pin you down and slowly drain you of your life force. The reasons are endless." The delicate shade of pink quickly turns to a bright red that spreads across Crutchie's entire face; he's clearly flustered.

Jack grins triumphantly. He's succeeded in making Crutchie blush, and Crutchie can't kiss him to shut him up.

"Get in the damn car, kelly," Crutchie mumbles. He can't think of a legitimate response to Jack's accusation, so he changes the subject. Jack keeps his smirk as he moves to the driver's side of his pickup truck. Crutchie grabs his arm, preventing him from moving. "I'm driving. And I don't want to hear a word of protest from you."

"Crutchie. You can't drive."

"Me left foot still works. And I could argue that you can't drive either. What if you start coughing and you can't stop? What if you sneeze and accidentally jerk the wheel into the other lane? What if you fall asleep?"

"I got here fine." Jack looks sullen. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable or anything from driving my car." Crutchie tightens his grip on Jack's arm. "A little left foot driving never hurt anyone. And I guarantee you I'll be a lot more comfortable if the car isn't wrapped around a tree or in a ditch. Now keys," he demands, holding out his free hand.

Jack huffs dramatically as he reaches into his front pocket to grab the keys. He hands them to Crutchie, who smiles, clearly pleased with Jack's obedience. "Thank you Jack. Oh, and help a guy out, would ya? I need to get up."

Jack obliges, opening the door for Crutchie and lifting him up into the seat. He waits to make sure Crutchie is situated, then grabs the crutch and moves to the other side of the truck. He climbs up, not bothering to hide his disgruntled expression from Crutchie.

Crutchie looks at him, and sighs. He turns the key in the ignition and reaches over to grab Jack's hand. He brings it up to his lips and leaves a soft kiss there. "I'm sorry Jack, I know must suck for you to not be in control right now. But I'm doing this because I care about you, and you know that. So just hang in there, okay? And try to enjoy being pampered for just one day."

"Whatever," is Jack's indifferent response, but the blush in his cheeks reveals that he's pleased.

***

The drive home is generally uneventful, the highlight being when Crutchie accidentally accelerates and almost hits the car in front of them. Jack lets out a single " _Jesus_ , Crutchie" and then they keep going.

When they finally pull into Jack's driveway, the engine is killed and Crutchie is helped down and handed his crutch. They walk into the house and drop their backpacks on the floor.

"Couch," Crutchie orders.

Jack groans. _Already_?

"Can I at least change out of my jeans first?"

"Go for it."

Jack starts out of the living room and heads towards his room. He changes out of his jeans and opts for a pair of pajama pants. He shoves a hoodie over his head and goes back to where Crutchie is waiting.

"Comfy?" Crutchie asks.

Jack nods and coughs twice.

Crutchie smiles. "Good. Now lie down."

Jack goes to the couch and situates himself, burrowing under a pile of blankets. He hears Crutchie move away, presumably towards the kitchen to make soup or something. He's quickly becoming drowsy, though, so he doesn't lift his head to look. The clanging sound of a saucepan being put on the stove confirms Jack's theory.

"Jack?" Crutchie shouts. Jack grunts in response, too tired to bother speaking. "Where's the soup?" Jack sighs. This question requires a verbal response.

"Hell, Crutchie, I dunno." Cough. "Maybe in the cupboard by the fridge?" He coughs again, groaning as the single cough quickly turns into a fit.

Crutchie calls out a quick "found it!" that Jack barely hears through his suffering.

Ten minutes later, Jack is dozing off when Crutchie hobbles into the room, balancing a bowl of soup in his left hand and trying not to fall over while he holds his crutch with his right. "Sit up, Jack," he commands.

"Do I have to?" Jack whines, covering his head with a soft blanket. He peeks at Crutchie with one eye, sees his serious face, and sighs while shoving himself to a sitting position.

"Good. Now eat your soup." Crutchie hands Jack a bowl of chicken noodle, which Jack takes reluctantly and stares at. He clearly has no intention of eating it. "Crutchie, I hate chicken noodle soup!" he complains.

"Then why is it in your house?" Crutchie counters.

"I dunno, Crutch. Try asking my parents. Oh wait, they're in Santa Fe. Guess we'll never know!"

Crutchie stops, knowing Jack must miss his parents. He obviously does, as he's pouting but subtly trying to hold back tears.

Crutchie takes the soup back, sets it on the coffee table, and sits down next to Jack. "Hey, it's okay. It must be hard being away from them for so long. When do they get back?" he whispers, wrapping his arms around Jack's frame. Jack turns, burying his head in Crutchie's shoulder. "Five weeks," is his muffled reply. _Five weeks_? Jack is much stronger than Crutchie could ever be. Jack's parents have already been gone for a month. And they'll be gone for another five weeks? It's no wonder Jack didn't want to go home to an empty house.

Crutchie squeezes tighter, and says gently, "Hey, it's okay. We're a family, you know that? I'd never let you down. So just hold on, kid, okay? Your parents'll be on a plane back from Santa Fe before you know it."

Jack sniffs, and the moment is ruined as he turns away and starts coughing. "I hate this!" he gets out in between coughs.

"Just eat the soup, Kelly. It'll help."

Jack huffs indignantly, but takes the bowl nonetheless. He sips the broth, unwilling to eat anything else. Crutchie smiles, glad Jack is finally cooperating.

"So, Jack, how's your portfolio coming?" Crutchie asks, making small conversation.

Jack chokes on his soup, and immediately goes into a coughing fit that lasts five minutes. So much for conversation.

"Are you okay?" Crutchie asks once Jack's coughs subside.

Jack nods, eyes streaming slightly. "I'm fine, I just kinda sorta forgot about my portfolio a bit? It's going okay other than the fact that I haven't worked on it in a week. I'm working on a piece right now? It's just a rough idea so far but I think it'll be really good when it's done." Jack talks about his art projects for ages, and Crutchie listens to it all with immense interest. He could listen to Jack talk all day if given the opportunity.

Jack yawns, and the sudden intake of air causes him to cough again. He groans, clearly done with his cold. Crutchie takes his hand, then lets go with a look of concern etched on his face. He puts the back of his hand on Jack's forehead, and the concern grows.

"Crutchie? What's the matter?"

"Jack, you're burning up. You've gotta have a fever of at least a hundred. Do you have a thermometer anywhere?"

"In the bathroom upstairs? The one connected to my parents' room," Jack replies. Crutchie stands up quickly, and heads towards the stairs to find the thermometer. A few minutes later, he returns with it in his hand.

"Open up," he commands. Jack complies.

The thermometer beeps, and Crutchie takes it and reads aloud, "101.5. I knew it."

"Hell, Crutch. This day just keeps getting better!" is Jack's sarcastic response.

"Don't be like that. Why don't you take a nap or something? You'll probably feel better when you wake up."

Jack whines. "I'm not _tired_ , Crutchie. I don't wanna sleep I wanna kiss you but you're being mean and not letting me!"

Crutchie just stares at him.

"I don't care if I'm sick I need to kiss you and hug you and hold your hand and _you're not letting me_. This is cruel and unusual punishment and I refuse to sleep until you kiss me!" Jack crosses his arms to demonstrate his seriousness.

"Jack, I can't kiss you or I'll get sick," Crutchie says gently. He takes one of Jack's hands, and holds it gently. Jack immediately reached over with his other hand and held onto Crutchie tightly. He was trying not to smile at the contact.

"This isn't good enough, Crutchie. I want your lips on my lips right now."

Crutchie smiles, thinking Jack is so cute when he pouts. "Sorry Kelly, but this is as good as you're gonna get. I'm not gonna kiss ya."

Jack huffs. "Fine. Then I'm not sleeping."

Crutchie sighs, trying not to get angry at Jack. "Jack, don't be difficult. You promised you wouldn't complain, and this is a perfectly reasonable thing for me to say no to."

"I don't caaaaaare," Jack whines. He strokes Crutchie's hand and tries to pull it up to his mouth and kiss it. Crutchie pulls his hand away, taking both of Jack's with it. Jack's hands are hot, and he needs to sleep off his fever.

"Jack, do I need to drug you? Where's your NyQuil?"

"No!" Jack shouts, coughing again. "I refuse to take that shit!"

"Fine. I'm gonna make you some tea, please don't die while I'm in the kitchen." Crutchie disentangles his hand from between Jack's two, and stands up. Jack leans back, grinning triumphantly. He won, and Crutchie gave up on trying to make him sleep.

A few minutes later, the microwave beeps and the tea is being brought out to Jack. "Thanks Crutchie! I love tea I'm so glad you made me some," he says, affectionately nuzzling into Crutchie's shoulder. "What kind is it?"

"Uh, lemon, I think?" Crutchie replies. He seems suspicious, but Jack is too happy that he's cuddling to really care. He takes a sip, letting the hot liquid sit in his mouth for a moment before swallowing and feeling it burn his throat on the way down. He likes his tea almost dangerously hot, so the flavor doesn't really register. The cup is empty almost immediately, and Crutchie looks at his watch, waiting for the NyQuil tea to kick in.

"Crutchie, I really love you, ya know that?" Jack asks, leaning into Crutchie's chest and taking his hand. He plays with it a little, running his free hand across their knuckles and rubbing his thumb on the back of Crutchie's hand.

"Yeah, Jack, I know." Crutchie smiles. Jack must be really tired if he's getting sappy five minutes after taking cold medicine. Crutchie pulls the blanket up to cover Jack, and lets his body be a pillow. He moves his free hand up to Jack's head and tangles it into his hair, stroking the brown waves.

Jack noticed this, and moved his head to look at Crutchie. "Did you- what did you do?" he asks.

"I made you tea," Crutchie answers.

Jack groans. "You drugged it, didn't you."

"Did you know your parents have NyQuil tea in the cupboard? I thought they might."

Jack's head falls down to rest on Crutchie's lap. "I hate you," he mumbles.

"I thought you really loved me?" Crutchie retorts. He goes back to petting Jack's head, knowing he's won the battle. Jack shifts, turning his body away from Crutchie. Even though Jack is pretending to be mad at him, their hands are still entwined and Jack is sighing happily at Crutchie's physical attention.

They stay like this for a while, and Crutchie listens as Jack's breaths become deeper and slower. When he's sure Jack is asleep, he leans down, kisses Jack gently on the forehead, and whispers, "Goodnight, Jack. I love you."

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: I started getting sick and I can't stop coughing this is literally me projecting my illness onto Jack. Another fun fact: the physics extra credit bit is 100% true. My physics teacher will deadass give us 5% extra credit at the end of the semester if we have perfect attendance. I would have taken so many (much needed) sick days this year if it weren't for the stupid extra credit. Third and final fun fact: I love whiny Jack and tactile Jack and if you disagree you can fight me.  
> I've written this fic mainly at night, and while sick, so there might be typos! Please let me know if you see any so I can fix them!  
> Also, please leave a comment telling me what you thought! I still need that sweet sweet validation.


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